


Left Behind

by autisticblueteam



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Autistic Character, Gen, Season/Series 13 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-11 00:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5606341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autisticblueteam/pseuds/autisticblueteam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Epsilon is gone, and Carolina is alone. She feels so very alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Well this is another one that hurt to write. Carolina goes through mental hell in this, so be prepared for a detailed account of an intense meltdown again. This also includes my first time writing Kimball, so I hope I did her justice.

There was a phantom pain in the base of her skull.

Her fingers dug into her scalp hard enough to draw blood; that was real pain. Her lip was burning where it split; that was real pain. Her leg wound was aching as she paced back and forth; that was real pain. But the pain at the base of her skull? That wasn’t real. That was an echo. An echo of years before and an echo of two minds torn away from hers, dragging their claws through her neural pathways as they went and−

But this time there weren’t any claws carving lines through her mind as they were dragged away. No, there was only the knowledge that someone was gone.

Epsilon was _gone._

Carolina let out a scream of frustration and hurt and fear and _so many_ _emotions_ all at once that her head was racing. Her hands grasped at chunks of her hair. Her teeth tore at her lip. Her blood pumped in her ears and made her head hurt all the more and she felt adrenaline coursing through her and making all of these sensations so much _worse_! It just _kept_ getting _worse_!

Her armour felt constricting. Her armour felt like it was strangling the life out of her every nerve it _had to come off_ it _had to come off−_ She started tearing at it, fumbling with seals and clasps and gasping for air as tears welled in her eyes. She could barely see through the tears and the encroaching blindness that crept in at the edges of her vision, and her hands shook uncontrollably, but a gauntlet hit the floor with a bang. And then the other. And then her leg pieces, and one by one every piece of armour hit the floor with a clattering sound that sent jolts of pain through her nerves but the armour was _off_.

And then her hands were back in her hair, tugging and pulling and digging bitten nails into her scalp and clawing red lines across abused skin. And her teeth tore at her lip and broke fresh scabs and skin and blood filled her mouth and it tasted _horrible_ and _disgusting_ but it was something real and something to try and focus on and−

 _Epsilon_ was _gone_.

Another scream tore up her throat, but it stopped as she choked on her own air and tears began flowing in hot rivers down her cheeks. The broken sound echoed around the metal walls of the crashed ship, making her flinch and whimper and dig her nails _harder_ and _harder_ into her head. It all hurt so much. It all hurt _so much_. But she was alone! There was no one else here she could− she could lash out she could _let go_! But no, no, no she couldn’t she couldn’t−!

Something somewhere in the shipwreck crashed. Carolina found her fist in the nearest wall. A horrible snapping sound hit her ears, and pain radiated up from her hand. No armour. No protection.

She slammed her fist into the wall again. And again. And _again_ and _again and again and−_

Her arm was numb with pain. She let out a choked gasp and fell to the floor, clutching it close to her body and gritting her teeth. Tears fell down her cheeks and hit the floor with soft drips that somehow _echoed_ and were somehow _so loud_ _so loud_! Drip, drip, drip, _loud, loud, loud_!

She swiped her tears away with a quick motion and gasped as pain shot through her arm again. She curled into a ball, cradling her arm close to her chest as her body shook and sobs hissed through the barrier of her gritted teeth. The sound of her teeth grinding together was ten times louder than it should be; the sound of the drips were ten times louder than they should be; everything was _ten times louder than it should be_ and _oh god oh god_ −

_Epsilon is gone._

Another scream, distorted by the barrier of her gritted teeth and making her throat feel so _raw_ and making her head _pound_ and _oh my god he’s gone._

She collapsed. She fell from her knees to her front, burying her head into her arms and _screaming_ and _crying_ and feeling her body shaking and curling in on itself as pain shot through her every nerve. She couldn’t tell if her eyes were closed or if the blindness that had been creeping in had finally taken hold, but every sound got somehow louder and every place her body touched something else felt like it was _on fire._

Epsilon was gone. Epsilon was dead. Epsilon was _never coming back_.

She had no one now. She had _no one left_. None of her family was left! Epsilon, Church, whoever he was at the end. He was the _last link_ , the _last goddamn link_ to her family! Her mother died when she was was a child, her father was lost to her not long after and now _he_ was dead _anyway_! Epsilon was all she had left!

Epsilon, who called her ‘sis’. Epsilon who kept her on track, who kept her routines in his data so he could tell her when she had to go somewhere or do something, but always left time for her to recharge. Epsilon who disguised his care with sarcastic remarks and half-hearted insults. Epsilon who felt like the brother she’d never had.

More sobs escaped her raw throat; her chest was aching as she failed to get enough air. But the sound of her sobs began to dull, no longer amplified ten times over. No, instead of being amplified the world around her started to sound like it was coming through water; sounds were muffled and indistinct and felt like they were miles away.

Epsilon was gone. Epsilon was never coming back.

Her head somehow felt so full and so empty at the same time. The phantom pain in the base of her skull came back to the forefront of her mind, throbbing and tingling and making her scrunch her face up tight. Another round of sobs broke out. She couldn’t be alone. She couldn’t do it on her own. She couldn’t do it all on her own _again_. Not again.

But Epsilon was never coming back.

She couldn’t stop herself from crying. She couldn’t stop herself from crying for what felt like hours and hours hidden away in the cold, dark remains of the crashed _Hand of Merope_. The world around her was distant and fading in and out, and her body felt tense and cold and numb. Her teeth would alternate between gnashing together and tugging at the skin of her cheek. Her nails dug into her palms. Her breathing was short and sharp. She wanted it all to end. She wanted it all to _stop_.

She couldn’t do this again. She couldn’t do this again.

No one else was supposed to die.

Her breath hitched in her throat. The Reds and Blues. Tucker and Sarge and Simmons and Grif and Donut and Doc and _Caboose_ and− _they nearly died_. They could still die. Oh god. No one else can die! _No one else_ , they just can’t _die_ they−

Another scream was muffled by her teeth burying themselves into her lip and her body shaking harder as she held it back. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess and time felt like it didn’t exist and it was only her panicked breaths that reminded her she was even _alive_ let alone anything _else_. Why was she alive? Why did _she_ always survive? Why was she always the one _left behind_?!

She didn’t know how long it was before the watery sound dissipated and the overwhelming sensations of her meltdown faded into a familiar dull throbbing at the front of her skull. Tears still dribbled down her cheeks, leaving wet trails that felt cold in the bitter atmosphere inside the ship. Her body ached.

But her senses were returning to her, and her thoughts were becoming more coherent. She was coming back up; slowly as it was, she was coming back up.

It was more time yet before she could force herself to sit up, her arms shaking where she planted her hands against the metal floor and pushed herself up. Her vision was blurred and her head was pounding, but she got herself up to her knees and then to her feet. She stumbled, bracing herself against the nearest wall, and took deep breaths to try and level herself back out.

And then she gathered her armour and made her way outside.

The canyon was quiet, the only sounds the rustling of the jungle trees in the breeze and the occasional burst of chatter from small groups of soldiers drinking. _Celebrating_. Carolina swiped away more tears; she didn’t feel the same need to celebrate.

It was also dark, making Carolina realise she had been gone for a very long time. It had still been light out when they had returned from the _Staff of Charon_ and she had left almost immediately; it had to have at least been a few hours. She wouldn’t be surprised if she’d broken her six hour record from back at the project.

Carolina sighed.

She made her way toward the makeshift bunks that had been set up, slowly. She wasn’t in any rush, and moving any faster would only make her aching head worse. She felt drained. She felt utterly _drained_ and she knew that there would be no soft blankets waiting for her back in her bunk. There would be no comfort. There would just be her and her thoughts, and she did not look forward to whatever tortures her mind had planned for her once she was alone again.

“Carolina?”

She stopped still. Her breath caught in her chest. She dropped a piece of her armour and flinched at the clattering sound it made on the rock floor. She forced herself to look over her shoulder.

Kimball let out a deep breath; a sigh of relief? A sigh of exasperation? Carolina couldn’t tell right now, “It is you. I was beginning to get worried.”

Carolina swallowed hard as Kimball approached her, her eyes on her at all times and her breath still held. But Kimball didn’t step too close; she stayed a foot or so away from her, head tilted down to compensate for the slight height difference. Carolina kept her eyes on the general’s forehead, swallowing again and forcing herself to speak.

“How… h-how long w-was I…?” She flinched at the sound of her own voice, hoarse and broken and barely audible. Her throat was so _raw_.

“About eight hours,” Kimball said, folding her arms over her chest. Carolina flinched back, expecting a statement of disappointment or a reprimand. But Kimball’s face was soft, her expression… worried? “Carolina, are you alright?”

Carolina blinked. Kimball sighed.

“Sorry, that was the wrong question to ask,” She said, brushing a stray cornrow back behind her ear, “You’re obviously not alright.”

“Yeah. Y-You don’t say,” She flinched at her own words. She didn’t mean to say that. She didn’t mean to be like that.

But Kimball’s expression didn’t change, “You haven’t had anything to eat or drink for eight hours. Do you want me to bring you something in your room?”

“No I d-don’t want to g-go to the mess− w-wait… I mean…” Carolina swallowed, considering her words. She didn’t ask if she wanted to go to the makeshift mess. She was offering to bring her food? “I m-mean… I wouldn’t w-want to inconvenience you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kimball said, her arms dropping from her chest, “Go ahead, get to your room. I’ll bring you something simple to eat.”

Carolina didn’t have time to protest before Kimball turned and walked away. So with a slight sigh she picked up the dropped piece of armour and made her way back to her room, where she stripped down to her boy-shorts and sports bra and wrapped herself in the sheets.

She tried to wrap herself up tight enough to make even these thin, horrible sheets give her some sensory relief, but by the time the door opened and Kimball entered she’d made no progress. In fact she felt worse than she had before, and tears were welling in her eyes again. Tears that she didn’t manage to swipe away before Kimball looked at her, but which the other woman didn’t comment on.

“I hope this is enough. I know your metabolism is a little strange,” She said, walking over and placing the tray of food down on the bed. Carolina examined the basic meal provided and gave a quick nod from within her failing blanket cover, wiping her eyes, “Carolina−”

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have aba-abandoned my p-position today. B-being AWOL f-for eight hours is unacceptable.”

The look on Kimball’s face told Carolina this wasn’t what the general was expecting to suddenly be told. Carolina knew she hadn’t said a thing to indicate she wanted an apology, but it was a conditioned response. Disappearing when on duty was not something that could be permitted on the MOI, not even for her. But this wasn’t the _Mother of Invention_.

She swallowed hard and looked down.

“There’s no need to apologise at all, Carolina,” Kimball sat herself on the end of the bed, passing a glass of water to Carolina. She took it and took a sip on auto-pilot, “I was going to say that, whilst I in no way understand exactly what you are going through, I want you to be aware that you do not need to suffer this alone.”

Carolina downed the glass of water, giving herself a moment to calculate a response. But she had nothing, and could only stare at Kimball’s forehead silently.

Kimball spoke again, “I am in no way pushing you to talk to me if you don’t want to. You know I wouldn’t do that. But I just want to know you know I’m here, alright?”

She offered a piece of bread, which Carolina took and bit into. She needed more time to think of a response. She needed to say the right thing. Kimball was waiting patiently as she chewed and swallowed, not pushing her to talk in any way.

“I… I know,” The ex-freelancer said when the bread was gone, “I just… I needed to. Be alone, I mean. I… I just needed… aloneness? No… no that’s not how you say it… I just needed… needed time alone. When I meltdown I− I…” She paused, her teeth digging into her lip.

She remembered throwing York into a wall. She remembered screaming at South. She remembered throwing Wash down the ladder to the maintenance tunnels. She remembered pointing a gun at Caboose’s head. Tear welled in her eyes.

“I-I do… t-things…” She choked out, feeling the tears drip down her cheeks and her body start to shake once again, “I… I…”

“Oh Carolina…” Kimball shifted the tray of food to the side, shuffling closer to Carolina but still not touching her.

Carolina couldn’t stop herself from sobbing, curling into a tight ball and digging her nails into her legs. The memories were too much too soon. Kimball was too close. Kimball was _too close_ , Carolina could _hurt her_ she could−

“Carolina. Carolina can you look at me?”

Carolina’s head snapped up. Her eyes found Kimball’s, and she shuddered but couldn’t look away. Kimball’s mismatched eyes were all she could see through her tears, but they were… kind? Understanding? Empathetic? All three?

“I…” She swallowed, sniffling hard and choking out a sob, “E- _Epsilon_ … T-The sim t-troopers… I…”

And Kimball’s arms were around her, and for once there were no jolts of pain. For once she could just bury her head into someone’s shoulder and _cry_ and _cry_ and just _let it go_.

Kimball shushed quietly, holding her still, “I know. I know.”

“H-He’s gone. H-He’s gone! I-I’ve been left b-behind. I-I’ve b-been left behind _again_ a-and−” She broke into more sobs, feeling so _weak_ and so _defenceless_ and so _pathetic_ and she felt so ready to _lash out_ she wanted to tell Kimball to go so she’d be _safe_ but−

She kept crying and Kimball kept holding her until the tears began to stop once again. Until the tears were just red lines on her cheeks and the throbbing of her headache was ten times stronger than before. Until they were left in silence.

Kimball gently helped Carolina sit up, hands on her shoulders and looking at her. Carolina kept her eyes on her face, though not her eyes, and sniffled.

“Do you want to lay down?”

Carolina nodded, and without another word Kimball clambered off of the bed and moved the tray out of the way. The ex-freelancer shifted to lay down, covered by the sheets, and watched Kimball come to kneel near her head. Her fingers brushed a strand of the other woman’s read hair back behind her ear, and Carolina momentarily understood why Caboose and Wash liked it when certain people touched their hair.

“I’ll leave you to sleep. But before I go, I figured you’d like to know that the Reds and Blues all made it. They’ll need time to recover but they are all alive.”

Carolina felt a wave of relief wash through her, faint but there. They were okay. They were _okay_.

“Now get some rest. You don’t need to worry about anything besides yourself and your team for the foreseeable future. I promise. I’ll send Wash by to check on you later, is that okay?”

Carolina nodded, closing her eyes as Kimball brushed her hair from her face once more. She heard her stand and then the door open and close. She curled up under the sheets, letting herself start to dose.

She was left behind again. But… she guessed she wasn’t alone.


End file.
